In Sheep's Clothing
by Quaxo
Summary: AU Elizabeth Hitchens didn't expect to fall in love with Bobby Goren. Bobby Goren didn't expect that the woman he loved was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Nicole/Bobby The case begins!
1. Wolf at the Door

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters... I also don't own "Waltzing Matilda" but I think everyone knows that.

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

"_Waltzing Matilda! Waltzing Matilda!_

_You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!"_

She watches them dance together: his hand spread across her back, his large hand swallowing hers in his gentle grip. His eyes are bright and his smile broad and honest as he leads her about the room with much more nimbleness than his size suggests. She laughs flirtatiously, squealing with each sudden turn. The little bitch.

"_Who's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?_

_You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!"_

She seethes internally as she watches her stretch up to press a kiss onto his cheek. She's good, real good… but she won't be enough to satisfy him, not for long.

She doesn't like competition though. She won't stand for it. He belongs to her, and she's not going to let anyone get in her way.

"That's a terrible song to sing to a three year old…" She scolds him with a smile.

He turns and flashes a boyish grin at her, adjusting his hold of the little girl on his hip with the dark blonde curls. They'd be a sunnier blonde color if they lived in the southern hemisphere, just like she had as a child…

"It's not as if 'Ring around the Rosie' is much better -- although that's mostly urban legend -- besides, it's your song, isn't it, baby?"

"My song!"

"Your song," he chuckles and then kisses her forehead. Cold rage runs through her veins at the sight.

She wonders when this became something more than mere self-preservation… when she had actually come to desire the man for more than the safety he could provide her.

Elizabeth Goren, nee Hitchens, wonders how life would be different if she'd stuck to her original plan of killing President Winthrop and framing Professor Sanders…


	2. Stalking Her Prey

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters... Some of the dialogue is snipped from the LO:CI episode "Anti-Thesis", so I don't own it, I just couldn't resist using it.

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

_Five Years Earlier..._

She'd been sitting on one of the benches in the quad, enjoying the last of the fall sunlight as she ate her lunch, when she met him.

She'd already seen him, long before he approached her. He wasn't exactly hard to miss. At six foot four and wearing a suit he stood out amongst the sloppily dressed students. Italian descent, late thirties, going gray at his temples… not conventionally handsome, but attractive enough she supposed. That was all the attention she paid him, going back to her novel…

"A-are you a student here?"

He's standing right in front of her, head cocked to the side to make eye contact, and a boyish grin on his face. At her skeptically raised eyebrow he bit back a chuckle and then had the audacity to sit down beside her. _Americans_, she thought, not bothering to hide the roll of her eyes.

"Tell me, does that line ever work, Mr. --"

"Bobby. Bobby Goren. You're--you're from Australia… but you've spent time in Oxford…"

She represses the urge to blink at "Bobby's" sudden pronouncement. He doesn't look like the sort that would hang around Bernard, and she hasn't done anything to attract police attention. Something about him isn't quite right though…

"How did you know that," She replies with a flirtatious grin.

"I spent a couple weekends there in the Army, chasing co-eds." The roguish grin he sends her almost distracts.

"And it took you all this time to finally catch one, my my…" He laughs at that, and unwillingly she finds herself smiling.

"W-well… not exactly. Your-your clothes? They're too nice for a student… you're polished -- professional." He beams at her like a puppy who thinks it deserves a treat.

"What brings you to Hudson, Bobby? Besides trawling for young co-eds…" He smiles again, not looking the least insulted… it's almost exasperating if it weren't amusing.

"I'm giving a guest lecture on criminal -- profiling for a friend of mine in the psychology department," He shrugs nonchalantly. "You never told me what you taught--or your name."

That sets off all sorts of warning bells… she'd covered her tracks very well when she went from Nicole Wallace to Elizabeth Hitchens, but if they had found something, if they suspected… He might be trying to feel her out.

"You're very persistent, aren't you, Bobby?" She keeps her manner coy, elusive, which gets men like him panting.

"Well, you know us Americans, we never know when to quit…" That grin again… she'd have to be careful about that grin, she had a feeling it had led plenty of women to places they hadn't intended to go.

"Why don't you give me your card, and if I call, you'll know your charming act worked?"

She's faintly surprised when he opens up a leather binder and pulls out a business card. He hadn't even protested when she called it an act. He played the game almost as well as she did…

She reaches out to take it, only for him to pull it away at the last second.

"A-a name. You have to at least tell me your name, otherwise I won't know it's you when you call…"

"You get a lot of calls from Australian women who studied at Oxford, then?"

"Maybe… A first name, a-at least…" There's a faint pout to his lips and she curses as she realize that part of her really wants to tell him.

"Elizabeth," she snaps as she grabs the card from his fingers, using it as a bookmark in her novel, before she retreats.

"Nice to meet you Elizabeth, from A-American Literature…" He calls out after her. She has to stop and turn.

"How did you know?"

He points to the book in her hand.

"Mo-moby Dick. No one -- reads Moby Dick for fun."

She's appalled when a laugh slips out, and quickly heads back to her office.

* * *

The wealth of information you can find out about a person on the internet has always slightly amazed her.

He isn't a cop. Robert "Bobby" Goren, she finds, really is a history teacher with New York City public schools just like his card says. She doubts that they'd go to such an extent to fabricate a backlog of web pages to catch Elizabeth Hitchens, and there shouldn't be enough evidence to arrest Nicole Wallace…

Further digging reveals that while he isn't a cop now, he used to be a Special Agent with Army Criminal Investigations Division. His father is dead, some years after he divorced his mother. He has an older brother who has been in some minor scrapes with the law.

Then there's his mother… his dear sweet crazy mother locked away in an institution upstate.

She had planned to get her graduate student to kill Winthrop and throw enough suspicion onto Sanders to ensure she'd get to keep her position and become eligible for U.S. citizenship. Bayley was a liability, and while she had no problem killing the little worm off, it was becoming quite the complicated plan; and the more complicated the plan, the more likely one was to get caught.

Then fate had dropped this upstanding man into her lap… even if Sanders did manage to get her fired, there was another way to make her stay in the U.S. legal…

And wouldn't a history teacher be ever so helpful to pass the citizenship exam…


	3. Second Chances

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

Notes: 'Thierry Gervaise' is the given name of Nicole's French boyfriend that we meet in 'Slither' under the alias of 'Bernard Freemont'. Timeline of this story is… well, sketchy, roughly late fifth early sixth season. Some events have been pushed about a bit.

* * *

She had planned for their date to end one of two ways as she entered the tiny Italian restaurant. If he bored or annoyed her she'd leave and never call him again and go forward with her plan to kill Winthrop. If he proved tolerable company of the sort that she wouldn't be tempted to murder him before she got her green card, she'd wait out those years and then divorce him as quickly as possible.

He'd stood and held out her chair for her when she entered, took her coat, and she was almost ready to write him off then and there as another Thierry. They played at gallant, but they always made sure you knew how good you had it with a smugness that belied the knight in shining armor persona.

Except he wasn't smug… he suggested items but didn't order for her. He looked genuinely interested in what she had to say, even though she only prattled away on literature and worthless little details about herself. He chuckled with authentic laughter at her snippy little comments about her co-workers, students, and Americans in general.

He'd let her talk all night about herself, if she let him. In a city filled with ego maniac "Captains of Industry" a lot of women must have found Bobby Goren a refreshing change of pace.

She turned the conversation onto him as they discuss the merits of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Work related questions first, about his school (in Brooklyn, the same school he graduated from), his students (generally more interested in the person seated next to them than the effect that the "Lost Generation" had on American arts and culture), his co-workers (either fresh faced naïve college students with no experience and lots of idealistic fantasies or dinosaurs who cared about nothing but getting their check on time and their upcoming retirement date).

The surprised look on his face when she told him that she suspected it wasn't only the baby teachers who were idealistic amused her. He wasn't used to having observations made about him, although she was certain he was making some about her in that busy little mind of his. Bobby Goren didn't like talking about Bobby Goren. She'd have to tread carefully, otherwise he'd crawl back into his charming shell and she'd never hear from him again…

So she told him she couldn't see how he could stand working with randy bored teenagers with the attention span of fruit flies. She could barely tolerate her undergraduate students lack of curiosity, and that was only because she was well paid to.

"_Ev-everyone deserves a chance, Elizabeth…"_

He was talking about education, of course. That even the most undeserving little brat had the right to a good education and a teacher that cared in the United States. Except it was about so much more. The way he said it, so earnestly, struck her hard. What a fool, to show such compassion without expectation of gain.

He was the kind of man that Thierry would have sneered at, a nobody without the will or imagination to take what he wanted, to even dream of wanting more than that which life had handed him. Someone to be taken advantage of, if they had anything worthwhile, which they rarely did. Self-righteous martyrs to humanity…

Except he didn't appear weak.

They talked until the waitress began dancing around the edge of the table nervously, wanting to clear them out for the next customer. He tipped the girl generously anyway and helped her with her coat.

He accepted her invitation to walk her home, offering her his arm casually. A perfect gentleman, just like mummies told their daughters about.

She offered herself to him, in the coy tradition of asking him up for a cup of coffee or something stronger. She'd worn her red dress tonight, one of the exact cut that Thierry always claimed made her irresistible.

"_I-I'd love to, but I-- have to be up early. Will I get a second chance? To say 'yes'?"_

He kissed her cheek and she told him 'yes'.

Because Nicole Wallace and Elizabeth Wallace believed in second and third chances…


	4. The One

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

Just so it's absolutely clear: _italics _areBobby's thoughts. **_Bold Italics _**areNicole/Elizabeth thoughts

* * *

It isn't because she's attractive, even though she is. Her thick sunny blonde hair trailing down her back and over a shoulder casually makes his fingers itch to run through it. Pale creamy skin, such a contrast to his own, that loves to stroke and lick. Her dark brown eyes are made all the more startling for these things; Madison Avenue insists those eyes should be blue, but it's just like her to be contrary.

It isn't because she's smart, although she is. She was brilliant, and witty, and unafraid to show it. She'd cheerfully ripped into him a few times in debate over Dickens or politics or anything really. It was such a novelty to find someone willing to challenge him, and with her sometimes it was just as nice to be wrong as it was to be right.

If she were just bright, or beautiful, or bright and beautiful they wouldn't have lasted as long as they have. The bright, the beautiful, they leave eventually. The beautiful ones are the first to realize that there are certain things he'll never be able to give them or show them. Maybe it's because they're beautiful they know the dark things that lurk beneath the flesh. The bright ones hang on for longer, trying to understand, empathize, or change him.

He remembers the exact moment when he realized that she was the mythical "one" of story and song. They're looking for an apartment, officially for her since the professor she's subletting from is coming back into town, unofficially they're looking for an apartment that might let two live together comfortably. Nothing's been said about moving in together, but she invited him along to look and Bobby's danced this number a few times before. Normally he'd have politely cut out before this point, begging off with the classic '_It's not you, it's me'_ excuse before slipping out the door and into the night.

He's contemplating on the best way to break up with Elizabeth as they walk through a nice little apartment in Queens. Elizabeth isn't like any other women he's ever dated before, but he doesn't know if he's ready for this second to last step; the only thing left will be marriage after this and he doesn't know if he'll ever be willing to chain another person to his mess that he calls family.

"You haven't seen the best part! The bathroom is absolutely massive," The real estate agent clucks, herding them towards the "best bathroom in all of Queens for your price range".

It's nothing spectacular, he remembers thinking: white subway tiles, a pedestal sink, a new toilet, an old medicine cabinet, and a bathtub. It's a large enough tub that he could probably sit in it and not be folded up like origami. It's a nice bathtub.

He hates bathtubs. He feels like he's hated them all his life, although that isn't strictly true…

_He's nine and a half and he's going to die, he just knows it. His throat is so tight and his lungs burn, but every time he tries to breathe his stomach fills with water. His hands and feet flail desperately above the water in a way that feels oddly disconnected as he struggles for something to hold onto, something to pull him out of his mother's grip._

'_They' were here again, and 'they' were after her, and were using him to get to her. She had to give him a bath, to get all the bugs off, to drown them good and proper. Can't she see she's hurting him?_

_If he makes it out of this alive, he'll never play with Lewis in the mud ever again._

"_Jesus, Frances! Are you trying to kill the boy?"_

_He feels a sharp pain in his scalp, before he's dragged up out of the water and tossed carelessly over the edge of the tub. The few seconds it takes his body to remember how to breathe are agonizing, but finally his throat opens and he sucks in air…_

_Then promptly throws up water all over the floor._

"_Dammit, Bobby," His father shouts, while struggling to pin Frances to his chest. "Clean up that mess!"_

She hadn't been trying to hurt him, he reminds himself as he pulls himself out of the past with a small shudder. She was, in her own way, trying to protect him.

He hasn't been able to take a bath comfortably since.

The realtor's cough makes him jump, realizing he must have been 'out' for longer than he thought. He looks over to Elizabeth, who has probably asked a question that he has yet to answer.

She looks just as startled as he probably does. Their eyes meet and…

_**She's seven and scrubbing at herself furiously with her rough washcloth in rust stained old bathtub. The heat's left the water long ago and her mother will be angry if she tries to use any more. **_

_**She knows there isn't enough hot water, soap, or scrubbing in the world that's going to get her clean though. Doesn't mean she isn't going to stop trying, though, she thinks, biting her lip to hold back a sob.**_

_**She drops the soap in the water as the door creaks open.**_

"_**Naughty little sheliah, you know you're not supposed to close the door," Da chides her, moving into the room and sitting on the toilet. "Wouldn't want my little Nicky to drown, now would we?" **_

_**His thumb strokes her cheek and she resists the urge to jerk away, it only makes him angry. She leans into it instead, just like he's taught her, it's easier if she just gives him what he wants.**_

"_**Now, why don't you let your Da see how clean you've got yourself…"**_

It's because when he looks into her eyes he sees a mirror of the ghosts he knows haunt his own. Ghoulish memories that they've but behind them as best they could, but will always lurk in the corners of their minds. They accept each other's demons, giving them the passing nods that they're due, but never speak of them.

"I think we'd like to see something else," He tells the flabbergasted agent as he takes Elizabeth's hand.

He buys her engagement ring that night.


	5. Perfect

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

Bobby has a secret… she couldn't say how she knows that, but she's certain that he's keeping something from her. There's a new nervous energy crackling like static electricity every time they touch. He's studying her when he thinks she isn't paying attention. She's being weighed and measured, and hopefully not found wanting.

Her contract with Hudson was coming to an end this summer (Sanders leading the one-man lynch mob, of course), she'd applied for a tourist's visa just to buy herself some more time. She should have stopped seeing Bobby… there'd been that nice banker, Gavin Haynes, who'd expressed interest in her the other day.

A man like Haynes, with his wealth and power, well, she'd probably be able to get a position at Columbia or NYU if she wanted (not that she'd have to work if she were married to Haynes). He could cut through all the red tape this country had put around becoming a citizen. He'd be an easy mark too… he wanted a pretty woman on his arm to coo at his accomplishments, but hold up intelligent conversation (under the mistaken belief that smart women couldn't be gold diggers, when that's what all smart women were…)

She was such a fool to stay with him… and yet something about him was irresistible to her. What was it? He was a considerate lover, yes, but not the best she'd ever had. He wasn't wealthy or powerful, no, if she wanted the best there was she was going to have to pay for it out of her own pocket. No power, no money, no sexual dynamo… all that really left was conversation, and that was a stupid thing to stay together for.

The trouble with Bobby was that they were far too much alike in some ways. If she was going to rely on him to get her green card and citizenship she was going to be in Australian prison before that happened. If their positions had been reversed she would've waited too, to make sure about who, exactly, she was marrying, not like that fool Haynes. For Bobby and herself trust did not come easy like it did the Haynes' of the world who had everything laid at their feet.

It only made sense that she needed to break it off with him. No fuss or dramatics. She'd just tell him that she wanted to go the next level in their relationship and he'd bolt. She was surprised he hadn't broken it off himself when she asked him to looking at apartments with her on a whim.

She'd show him a little mercy, perhaps, and break up with him after they finished this visit to his mother. She'd tell him she just couldn't handle have a woman like Frances Goren for a mother-in-law. He'd hate her for being small minded, even though a small part of him would probably hate himself because he agreed with her. It would still be her fault though…

Her stomach sank like lead at the thought…

* * *

He was probably not being half so subtle as he thought, watching her when she wasn't looking. Elizabeth was too perceptive, much like himself. It was, he realized, another reason they were so good together: she could see the same things he did.

When he pointed out that the way she held her fork, while entirely proper, was almost too well trained, like she feared if she didn't someone would realize she didn't belong, she hadn't looked at him with bewilderment or fear… instead she'd laughed;

"_Sometimes, Bobby_, _a cigar is just a cigar."_

Later that night, though, as they walked home from the restaurant, she'd looked up at him and said:

"_You dress rather well, for a high school teacher. You don't have many suits, but those you have are of the highest quality… I wonder, is it because after a childhood full of second hand clothes that you now prefer the finer things in life, or because some small part of you feels more authoritative when you're the best dressed in the room?"_

"_I thought cigars were just cigars?"_

"_Except when they're not,"_ she replied cheekily, eyes sparkling in the light of the streetlamps.

It was nice to have someone who understood him without having to go into long explanations. He'd had girlfriends in the past who'd wanted to be his therapist more than his lover. Elizabeth just got him and didn't push for more…

Sometimes he wondered if this all wasn't a dream, or an elaborate practical joke and at any moment now a camera crew would pop out of the alley and announce that the whole thing had been a ruse for a reality television show. He and Elizabeth just… clicked together so perfectly…

He could feel the ring burning in his pocket, and he was tempted to pull over and propose right now…

If she could handle his mother, if she could accept that her future mother-in-law would be locked away in a mental institution for the rest of her life, that any children they had would be at an elevated risk of having the same thing happen to them…

Well, she'd be almost too good to be true, and he'd put that ring on her finger faster than she could blink.

* * *

It was a disaster… an unmitigated, complete and utter disaster. When he'd called Dr. Shimo just before they left, he'd said she was having a good day… some time in the hour and a half drive to Carmel Ridge that had changed…

Walking into the door of his mother's room he'd known, deep in his gut, that something was wrong. She was sitting calmly in her bed, the sunlight filtering in from the windows in an almost picturesque way…

"_Finally decided to visit your mother? Oh and you brought a friend to see the sideshow… how much did he charge you?"_

"_Ma, this is Elizabeth…" he'd replied, refusing to play into the game as he grabbed hold of Elizabeth's hand._

"_You're the new flavor of the week that's been keeping him from me? Well, you certainly are pretty, I can see why he was distracted. Why you're interested in him though, I don't know… his brother Frank, he's the one who's going places…"_

He could deal with her anger at him, he was used to that. Embarrassing to have her rip into him in front of Elizabeth, but survivable. If she'd just stayed focused on him, everything might have been fine…

"_You forgot what I told you about pretty women, Bobby, you always have to watch them. Watch this one close, she's got the devil inside her, I can see it…"_

"_Mrs. Goren, I'm not--"_

"_Listen to that fake accent… putting on airs like she's smarter than me. She's a murderer Bobby, it's in her eyes…GET HER OUT OF HERE!! GET THAT MURDERER OUT OF HERE!!"_

As bad as the words were, well, the sight was much worse. The nurse had come through the door then and he'd had to help her restrain his mother to the bed, while she frothed at the mouth, still shrieking at Elizabeth.

She was going to run away, and he couldn't blame her. He'd run away too if he could. God, what a mess… why had he even bothered bringing her here… what sane woman would want to marry him after meeting his mother on a day like today.

"There have been mothers who disapproved of me before, but none quite so vehemently…" Elizabeth says lightly as he pulls onto the interstate.

Hysterical laughter bursts from his lips before he can stop it.

_Oh god, trust Elizabeth to make a joke at this moment…_

"Bobby, she's a very sick woman, she doesn't mean what she says -- about either of us."

She sounds so confident, like she actually believes what she's saying. He's been telling himself the same thing for years and some days he still has trouble believing it. He'd prepared her a little for what she might see, but she handled it so well…

_She's perfect…_

He slammed on the brakes.

* * *

"Bobby," she yelped as the car lurched to a stop on the side of the interstate.

Visiting Bobby's mother certainly was an experience. Good thing his mother was certifiable, otherwise she might have been in trouble. Just her luck that Frances Goren would be seeing murderers around every corner instead of aliens today.

As they drove away she realized that she couldn't end it like she planned… it would be so easy, she could see that he was already writing the story in his head. She felt, to her surprise, sorry for him… how many relationships had ever progressed this far, only to end after a visit with Mummy Maddest?

So as she reassured him that she understood, she began plotting another way to escape… maybe if he caught her in bed with another man or woman? Tell him that she'd been cheating on him for months? Christine might be up for another romp…

Then he'd stopped the car and stared at her.

"Bobby, what's going--"

"Elizabeth, this -- uh isn't the way I wanted to--to do this, but…" He fumbled for something in his jacket pocket for a moment, before producing a simple platinum band with a sparkling solitaire diamond. "I love you, Elizabeth, marry me?"

She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

* * *

A week later and they were married in the court offices, with only his friend Lewis and some random courthouse workers as witnesses. If he wondered why she hadn't asked any coworkers from Hudson to attend, he didn't ask. She'd told him what a hard time she was having over there. Looking for a new job was going to be a pain, but one she didn't think she'd mind as much with Bobby by her side.

They filed her application for naturalization the same day and everything seemed perfect in the world of Bobby and Elizabeth Goren.


	6. Different This Time

* * *

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

This time would be different, she swore as she cradled the swaddled infant in her arms. She could love this one because it was Bobby's, and she loved Bobby so much, as hard as that was to believe.

Their little miracle child…

_It's the third day this week she's greeted the day by staring down the porcelain bowl of the toilet._

"…_wish I could get rid of this bloody flu…"_

"_Have—have you thought you might be-- pregnant?"_

"_Nonsense, I'm on the pill, we use a condom every time…" She scoffs, as ice trickles down her spine. She tries to recall her last period, but can't. Who pays attention to that sort of thing when you're as careful as she and Bobby are? She hasn't had time between work and night school to do much more than sleep anyway…_

"_Neither one's a hundred percent though… you should be-- menstruating by now…"_

"_You keep track of my cycles?"_

"_It's useful information. Your hair, it gets oiler around this time of the month, and you drink a lot more water…"_

"_Well, if I am pregnant, it's a bleeding miracle…"_

He teased her for months afterwards, calling her 'Mary' as this child that wasn't supposed to be grew inside her. A miracle child indeed, considering the single digit percentages of a condom or the pill failing, let alone failing at the same time.

If Bobby hadn't spotted it first, she would've had an abortion. After what happened the last time… she wouldn't have risked it.

If it were a boy though, things would be different, surely they would…

"_I thought fathers always wanted sons to continue the family name?"_

"_And I always thought that mothers wanted daughters to dress up? I don't know," a warm palm resting on her exposed stomach. "I just have a feeling…"_

"_Well, Mr. and Mrs. Goren, only one way to find out…" the sonogram technician chirped, holding up a tube of gel._

_Moments later the sex announced and Bobby's beaming so brightly and she tries to shine with him but inside her stomach shudders as she remembers the feel of the old shovel between her hands, so much sturdier than the flesh and bone her hands a few hours earlier. A momentarily blinding flash of rage ruining everything she'd worked for…_

_That night, lying in bed together, his large frame curled around hers protectively, his hand stroking her stomach where the child they've created against all probability is quietly growing…_

"_I'd never do what your father did to you… I wouldn't, couldn't…" He quietly declares and sends her heart stuttering to a stop._

_She focuses her energy on keeping her face placid while internally she frantically tries to find the stain that refuses to leave her flesh like the blood on Lady Macbeth's palms. That's the curse of loving Bobby, things that should stay dead and buried are exhumed and brought to the light of day. _

_For an icy second she hates him to her very core for gutting her so completely. She's never exposed him like this, content to let him have his secrets for himself…_

"_I know," she says as she clutches his wrist, barely preventing her nails from digging into his flesh._

This time would be different, she swore, because no one could take Bobby's love away from her…

This time would be different.

* * *

Detective Alex Eames sighed and stared at her blotter. The funny thing about paperwork was that when you didn't have time for it, you had it up to your ears; when you had nothing to do… no paperwork. She and McKinney had cleared up most of it before he'd retired. Until a new junior partner came through she'd be "unofficially" babysitting Major Case's newest senior detective: Mike Logan.

Mike Logan, NYPD's loose canon misfit… her father and his buddies had been thrilled to hear that Mike had managed to get promoted to Major Case. Logan had impressed Deakins, and her, with the way he'd handled the incident down at the Brooklyn prison a little over a year ago. It came as no surprise that once Deakins moved up into the brass ranks that Logan was recalled from Staten Island. Ross, she could tell, wasn't quite as overjoyed at the newest member of his squad, but unless Logan really screwed up there wasn't much he could do about it except his grit his teeth and bear it.

She started as something whacked her shoulder. Turning around she found the culprit: a paper airplane. She glared at the man sitting across from her, pretending to read his NYPD handbook.

"Stop trying to look innocent, Logan." Logan's eyebrows raised up in a 'who me?' expression that wouldn't fool a toddler.

"Are you accusing me of something, Eames?"

"Maybe."

On slow days like this she felt bad for wishing something would happen… anything…

"Logan, Eames, my office," Captain Ross barked, poking his head out of his door. She and Logan shared a glance. Something was up…

"I'm sick of watching the two of you sit out there and waste tax payer money making paper airplanes," Ross shot Logan a stern look and Alex couldn't help smirking. "Kidnapping in Central Park, about a half hour ago, since the perp was bold enough to do it in broad daylight, the mayor thinks it'd look best if Major Case was on it, get down there," Ross handed them the preliminary report.

Matilda Goren, in Central Park with her mother, Elizabeth Goren. Kidnapped in broad daylight by an unknown assailant on a bicycle…

"I'm driving," She smirked, pulling out her keys.


	7. The Case Begins

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

"Tilly, what are you doing up so early?"

The clock on the stove said six forty-seven; Elizabeth was going to kill him for waking Tilly up before eight. He'd thought he'd been pretty quiet, moving through the apartment, but apparently not quiet enough.

"Wanna have brekfist with you, Dah-dee…"

She'd definitely gotten that Bambi-eyed look from her mother. Looking up at him hopefully, dressed in her pajamas and clutching her patchwork rabbit, she was pretty hard to resist. Any other day he would've humored her and poured them both a bowl of cereal, but he was running late today.

"Daddy already had breakfast, sweetie," He says lightly, before draining the last of his coffee and putting the mug in the sink.

Matilda's pout wobbled threateningly and internally he cursed. The 'terrible' didn't stop with the twos, although considering how strong willed both he and Elizabeth he shouldn't have been surprised. His mother would have called it justice.

"Tell you what," He offers, scooping her up and propping her on his hip. "Daddy's can't today, but this weekend we'll make pancakes together. Won't that be fun?"

"Prawmiss?"

She looks at him skeptically, a look he recognized from his own reflection. He stifles the urge to laugh at the serious look on her face, he knew from experience that that would definitely not go over well.

"I promise, Tilly," He soothed, before kissing her forehead. "Now, why don't I tuck you in and you lay in your bed real quiet so you don't wake up, Mommy?"

"Too late," Elizabeth appears in the doorway, belting her robe as she made her way to the coffee machine

"Sorry, I tried--"

"It's alright, darling. Some little girls just get very excited to spend time with their daddies. Besides, Matilda and I have a big day planned…"

"Oh, is that so Tilly?"

"We gonna go to the park…" Matilda instantly brightens up, thankfully. "Gonna see ducks!"

"That sounds fun, baby, you can tell me all about it when you come home, okay?"

"'Kay!"

She squeals loudly as he presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek before he set her down. He quickly pecks Elizabeth's cheek before grabbing his portfolio and heading out the door.

_Crap, six fifty-three, I'm going to miss the bus…_"Mommy, look! Ducks!"

* * *

"Don't get too close to the edge, Tilly. You wouldn't want to fall in…"

"M'kay… here ducky ducky! C'mere ducky!"

Matilda seemed to have gotten a double dose of curiosity, although her insistence on exploring _everything_ was all Bobby. She shuddered to imagine what sort of trouble she'd get into as a teenager. Plenty, judging from her and Bobby's escapades.

She's about to suggest that they go on to the dog park, when something slams into her side, sending her into the lake. It takes her a moment to get her bearings, only to hear something that makes her blood freeze:

"MOMMY!" Tilly shrieks as a woman straps her into a bicycle seat before streaking down the path.

It was early enough in the morning that there were few people about, just runners who didn't even notice the commotion through their headsets.

"Help! She took my daughter! Help!"

* * *

It wasn't hard to find out where the crime scene was; all they had to do was follow the stampede of reporters wearing their press badges. Christ, were there television crews set up already? Vultures…

Flashing their badges to the uniforms who were trying to block off the area got them past the barriers.

She eyes the collection of people hemmed in by the barrier: uniforms, witnesses, and somewhere the victim's mother.

"Hey!" The voice is quiet, almost apologetic, but the firm grip on the sleeve of her coat isn't. She turns, ready to give the asshole a piece of her mind and maybe a nice lecture on the nasty consequences of interfering with a police investigation and pissing her off.

She doesn't though, when she sees him. His open baby face is clearly frantic, so unless he does a lot of work on 42nd street, he's not some ghoulish bystander or sneaky reporter.

"M-my daugh-daughter, my wife…"

"You got ID, buddy," Logan snaps at the taller man, stepping in toe to toe, going alpha male on him. Alex resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

The man already has his wallet ready and hands it to her, bypassing Mike completely. She represses a smirk as she flips open the worn black leather wallet to reveal the driver's license of Robert Orson Goren.

Inside the wallet also are photos of Robert holding a dark blonde little girl with a sunny smile, and another of who she presumes is Mrs. Elizabeth Goren, a pale woman with long blonde hair.

"Your girl, what's her name?"

"Matilda," Goren answers immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Logan moves to allow him in the gate, or at least tries to before Goren brushes him aside, plowing through the crowd with the ease that his impressive height gives him.

"Bobby!" A damp woman of average height breaks from a throng of uniformed officers and throws herself against the taller man. The blonde hair is a match for the woman in Goren's wallet.

He embraces her tightly, stroking her hair as they approach the two.

"It's all my fault, Bobby."

"I don't believe that, you're always so careful with her."

"Mr. and Mrs. Goren? I'm Detective Eames, this Detective Logan, I know this is hard, but we have a few questions we need to ask you."

"I already told--"

"They'll need to hear it for themselves, Elizabeth, it's procedure."

"You an officer," Logan asks archly.

"Ex-Army CID. Please, tell them what happened, the sooner they know…"

It was one of the most improbable sounding kidnappings Alex had ever heard of. A woman walking with her daughter in the park gets knocked into the lake by a mystery woman on a bicycle, who stuffs her child into a waiting child's seat before speeding out of the park. There were more efficient ways of kidnapping a child than using a bicycle, and doing it in broad daylight in front of the mother... that sounded personal.

"What do you two do for a living?"

"I'm a teacher over at Lincoln High in Brooklyn, she's a librarian at the Brooklyn Public Library…" Mr. Goren replies, still holding his wife as she sobs quietly on his shoulder. "I was the only other one who knew they were going to the park today. We don't have enemies to speak of, no one's been hanging around our house that shouldn't. My brother, he's a gambling addict, but I haven't seen or talked to him in years. I--I don't think he even knows Matilda exists…"

She and Logan share a look at the wealth of information that Mr. Goren delivered up. It could just be him trying to be helpful, and having been law enforcement he'd know what they were going to ask… but sometimes over eagerness was a sign of a guilty conscious… Still, odd behavior wasn't always guilty behavior. They'd have to look into Mr. Goren though.

"Mr. Goren, can I borrow the photos you have of Matilda," She asks, holding up his wallet.

Mr. Goren looks slightly startled to see she still has his wallet, but nods, before returning his attention to comforting his wife.

Inspection of his wallet reveals a couple credit cards, an identification card for Lincoln High School, library cards for NYPL and Brooklyn Public, and about fifty dollars in small bills. Perfectly normal. She slips a couple photos of Matilda from their plastic sleeves, before handing it back to Mr. Goren, who pockets it absently.

"If you want, a squad car can take you back to your place, get you some dry clothes, Mrs. Goren…"

"No, I want to stay, in case you find her…"

She and Logan don't have the heart to tell her the likelihood of that happening.

* * *

If there were a more useless crime scene out there, Alex had never come across it. The mounted patrol had closed off the area as quickly as they could, but the park was a terrible place to find evidence.

"Whaddya think the Mrs. is? Size eight or nine," Logan calls out, squatting down by the bank of the lake, examining footprints in the mud. "I've got some lady's footprints, plus some kid's and a tire track and a partial off a sneaker. If it'd have rained last night we might have got a better print…"

"She was wearing flats, this is probably where it happened…" She sigh, looking over their pitiful amount of evidence collected so far. "Generic wide tread tires, looks like."

Gawkers were already starting to collect around the edges of the tape inside the park, the mommy-brigade beginning to flood in. She didn't blame them for being curious, right now this kidnapping was looking fairly random, they had a right to be concerned. After all, they could be next. She hoped they weren't dealing with a serial… the level of panic that would send through the city….

"Wonder what they were doing here so early? Most of the mothers come about mid-day…"

"Maybe she wanted to avoid the line for the ducks? We'd better get her back to 1PP and in front of a sketch artist."

"Looks like we're going to have to give a press conference, for all the evidence that this scene's given us…"

"You think Brass is letting me anywhere near a camera with this case?" Logan smirks. "We'll be lucky if they don't run us down in an attempt to get in front of the cameras first!"

* * *

Danny hated public speaking, especially in front of a bunch of pushy reporters who weree eager to find fault with everything he said.

The press conferences were probably the hardest thing to get used to on the Major Case squad. It was important though, not only to gain the trust of the public but as a career move. As Deakins had reminded him on the phone, good publicity counted for a lot in the higher ranks. He'd just have to deal with it.

Straightening his jacket he stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat.

"At eight-thirty this morning, Matilda Goren was kidnapped near the southern pond in Central Park. Matilda is approximately three feet tall, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing a striped shirt, blue overalls and pink sneakers. The kidnapper is a female between five foot five and five seven, medium frame, short to medium black hair, possibly Asian. She was riding a green, all terrain bicycle with a child seat attached to the back. She should be considered armed and dangerous. Anyone with information is asked to contact our tip line."


	8. Suspicious Behavior

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

The first forty-eight hours were important in any case, but especially kidnappings where the victim's fate was often decided mere hours after the event. Ross had volunteered to stay with the Gorens at their house waiting for the kidnapper to call, if they called. Alex's gut was telling her they probably wouldn't.

Ross working negotiations freed her and Logan up to work tip-line, which was a curse and a blessing. Curse because these sort of cases brought the whack jobs out of the woodwork, and blessing because if there was a good lead they were quickly able to act upon it.

Right now it was working out to be a lot more of a curse.

"I hate working tip-line," Logan sighs, slamming the handset down on the receiver. "Do I get a prize for five 'psychics' in a row?"

"I think they're buy five get three free," a tired smile flits across her face as Logan groans loudly, shaking his head. "Anything promising?"

"I've got squat."

Through the cacophony of ringing phones a shrill tone breaks through, and it takes her a second to realize that it's her cell phone.

"Eames. You got something for us, Captain?"

"I want you look into Mr. Goren's background, deep digging…" Ross sounded suspicious, something that got her attention.

"What happened?"

* * *

The Gorens owned a nice, if small, two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. Besides the shelves that were almost overflowing with books, the place was a model of middle-class living. Unless the Goren's were hiding their spectacular wealth in overseas bank accounts, they were exactly what they appeared: the average American working middle-class family.

Which unfortunately meant that the kidnapping probably wasn't motivated by money.

It'd been four hours since he'd met the Gorens in the park and went home to wait for a phone call from the kidnapper, and so far no luck. Their kidnapper, who had obviously been watching the family closely, should've called by now. The longer they waited to call the more likely they were to get caught, so if some sort extortion were involved they would've called.

Chances were the kidnapper wasn't going to call, which left only the most nefarious of motivations to explain Matilda's abduction. He hadn't said anything to the Gorens, but he could tell that the idea was beginning to occur to them. Mr. Goren, in particular, had been on edge, pacing the apartment like a caged animal.

Speaking of the Gorens…

"You know what's she's like if I don't show up, Elizabeth," Mr. Goren's tone was a mix of sympathy and impatience as he fumbled with his overcoat.

"I know that you should be here, helping to find your daughter!"

"Is there something we can do for you, Mr. and Mrs. Goren," Ross asks, startling the arguing couple. Mr. Goren looks him over for a moment, before refocusing on his wife.

"I want to be here, but if she-- gets worse then-- I'll be back, just two hours, and I'll leave my cell phone on the whole time. If there's a breakthrough, then I'll be right back here, I promise."

"Fine, Robert, do what you want."

Mr. Goren looks him over nervously, looking as if he wishes to say something, but instead turns and leaves.

As soon as he hears the door shut, he immediately starts dialing Eames' cell.

If it were one of his boys that had been kidnapped, he wouldn't have left the house for anything.

* * *

He has to go to his mother, she's been on the edge of another breakdown for the last month, and he doesn't think he could handle losing her too…

He jerks the car roughly to the rideaway, throwing it into park. He can feel himself hyperventilating, his head getting lighter as the oxygen flow decreases to his brain. It's comforting, in a way, to observe his body in such a detached way…

Oh god this morning he'd just been worried that he'd be late to work, which was so stupid in reflection. Only fifteen minutes late, just a little bit of lost prep time, he could have been at home with Matilda… if he'd stayed with her she and Elizabeth wouldn't have gone to the park at that time…

Should've never fixed anything… it wouldn't have prevented Matilda from being taken, he realized with a chill. Someone had stalked his family, waiting for the right opportunity to snatch her for whatever reason. He couldn't think of anyone recently who could've possessed that level of anger towards him or Elizabeth…

"_Get inside their heads, Bobby, want what they want--"_

Why Matilda? Surely there had been other children in the park that morning who would have been easier marks, wandering away from their nanny's eyesight just for a moment… Perhaps a physical attraction? The kidnapping couldn't have been spontaneous, to have all the necessary equipment, the child's bike seat-- that was planned. Why plan to take Matilda? To fulfill some sick fantasy? To punish Elizabeth and him?

His temples began to throb as his stomach churned; he was out of practice at getting into perps brains…

_Thank god, after last time…_

Taking another deep breath, he pulled back onto the highway. He needed to get to Carmel Ridge and try and talk his mother back from the edge of insanity, then he'd head home and wait for the kidnapper to call…

_They won't call, though… Matilda's gone to punish us…_

The thought struck him with such certainty that he was chilled to the bone.

* * *

"Really? No, we're not ready to identify suspects at this time. Thank you for calling, Principal Scandon," Logan's eyes shine brightly, which can only mean he's found an interesting bit of information. "Mr. Goren never punched in to work this morning, although he's been known to forget on occasion. The principal can confirm that he was there to teach his second class at nine, but he has a first hour prep period, and the principal didn't see him in his classroom."

"Well, isn't that interesting?"

A mysterious visit out of the city, missing time, things definitely weren't looking good for Mr. Goren. With so few things making sense in this case, Mr. Goren's unusual behavior was starting to make him their prime suspect.

Alex's gut was hesitant though, and while it'd been known to be right, she couldn't ignore the evidence, circumstantial though it was.

All signs currently pointed to Robert Goren as a party to the kidnapping of his own child. Why though? Who was the mysterious woman on the bicycle? A jealous mistress? An accomplice? Why kidnap the girl in the first place?

It's too late (or now, early) in the morning to be trying to unravel the criminal mind, Alex realizes as she yawns, the clock on her laptop informing her that it's now one-fourteen in the morning. They've been working the case for over twelve hours, and so far nothing…

"Let's step into him tomorrow."

* * *

Her baby sister would've been the same age as Matilda, if her parents hadn't been selfish and had that abortion. So typical of them, to reject something just because it didn't fit into their image of the way the world should be. Liz was right, she had to get away from them, only then would she be free to be herself.

Hopefully Liz was doing okay, still trapped with the beast that dared call himself a man. At least with the cops around he wouldn't be up to his usual tricks. How she'd stayed with that asshole for five years, Ella couldn't imagine it.

Then when he started preying on poor Matilda… god, Liz had even caught him in bed with her. Worse yet, Matilda didn't know what her father did to her was wrong…

That wouldn't matter anymore, as soon as the search died down a bit, Liz could come get them and they could start a new life together… Mommy, Aunty and baby…

"C'mon, you want to watch cartoons with me, Matilda?"

"No! Want my daddy!"

"Don't worry baby, mommy's coming for us soon."


	9. Weathermen

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

She hates that look, the one that the relatives of victims always give them whenever they come to their door; it's a mixture of dread and hope, and most of time they can neither provide the relief of prayers answered or in making nightmares reality. It's the look they're about to receive once Logan gets around to knocking--

"I hate this part," Logan sighs, fussing with his tie (an awful plaid polyester knot that offends even Alex's forgiving sense of fashion) for a second before knocking on the door.

Logan barely gets finished knocking when the door swings open, a pale Mr. Goren staring down at them. He looks like the visual definition of worried parent...

"Did you--"

"No, we just have a few more questions."

"Oh."

"May we come inside?"

Mr. Goren steps aside, letting them into a little house that is quickly becoming as familiar as their own. They follow him through the narrow hallway to the cheerily painted kitchen, the only sign of the tragedy afflicting the family being the stack of dirty coffee mugs piled in the sink.

"Can anyone verify your whereabouts the morning Matilda was kidnapped," She asks carefully. The worst thing they could do at this point was alienate Mr. Goren by giving him the idea that he was a suspect. If he were innocent he'd be a lot less communicative with them, if he were guilty-- he'd run or do something stupid.

"W-what? I left the apartment just before seven, Elizabeth can tell you that. I drove to work, punched in--"

"See, that's the thing, you didn't punch in. Is there anyone at the school who can confirm that you were there during Matilda's kidnapping," Logan jumps in, playing bad cop to her good. Logan was born to play bad cop…

"I-- I was there, I was prepping for a pop quiz I was giving my second period… I was so busy I didn't -- You can't think I did this--"

"We don't have any suspects at this point, Mr. Goren. We just need to cover all our bases, you know how it is…"

"Yeah… Anything else you need?" Mr. Goren's voice is a bit colder; as a former police officer he understands perfectly. They have no suspects, so until they find one, he'll do. Their superiors will be breathing down their necks otherwise. It's a necessary evil, they all know it, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"Are you sure there isn't anyone with a grudge? Someone you put away that might have gotten out, holding a grudge?"

"No… there may be some who hold grudges, but none of them should be out for a very long time…"

They're heading out the door, when Logan suddenly turns around.

"Where's your wife?"

"She's gone out for a walk… it's hard for her to stay here…" A broad gesture brings Alex's attention to the tiny pair of sandals and a bright pink backpack sitting in the hallway. "Do you need to talk with her?"

"No, thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Goren."

* * *

"Good evening, America; I'm Faith Yancy. Tonight, I have the parents of Matilda Goren, the sweet little girl kidnapped in broad daylight in Central Park a week ago today. Elizabeth, Robert, I'm glad you've decided to talk with us tonight…."

"Thank you …"

"Elizabeth, I cannot imagine what you are going through right now. I myself have two children at home, Isaac and Marcy, born earlier this year, Mommy loves you! Now, if I had gone what you are currently going through, I would be going out of my mind."

"It has been very trying, Faith."

"Would you please tell the audience, what, exactly, happened last week when your daughter was abducted right in front of you."

"I took Matilda out to the park, earlier in the day when it's less crowded. We went to one of the lakes, she wanted to see the ducks. I told her to stay away from the edge…We were heading to the dog park-- when someone pushed me into the lake--"

"Were you hurt, Mrs. Goren?"

"Just a few scratches, Faith."

"Do you have anything you want to say to the kidnapper if they're watching tonight, Mrs. Goren?"

"I ask the kidnapper to contact us, and to _please_ take care of her until you return her to us. She's everything to Bobby and myself. She loves to color, her favorite book is _Goodnight Moon_, her favorite song is _It's a Small World After All_. Please, we just want our little girl back."

"Mr. Goren, you've been awfully quiet, is there anything you'd like to add? -- Mr. Goren? Mr. Goren?"

"Y-yes, I don't know why you -- the kidnapper, have taken Matilda, but please, just let her come home. Alive -- or dead -- please just let us know where she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. and Mr. Goren for coming on my show during this difficult time. After the commercial break, convicted child molester Charles Eroney is _parolled_ because the judge thinks he is _TOO SHORT_ to go to prison! I tell you America, I just don't know what this country is coming to…"

* * *

"What have you two got?'

Alex sighs wearily, rubbing the bridge of her nose. A week into the disappearance of Matilda Goren and all they had were a thousands of reports of _possible_ sightings and no leads. No ransom call had been received, no credible note sent to the Gorens or to them.

It hinted towards familial abduction, but they haven't exactly got a lot of suspects on that count. Mrs. Goren was an only child, both parents dead and buried back in Australia. Mr. Goren had an older brother and a mother, but his mother was a patient at a mental institution upstate and the brother, well, he would have asked for ransom seeing how deep he was in with his bookie.

"Same as yesterday, Captain," Logan scowls. He was particularly put out by the way the investigation was going, Alex knew; having his first "major" case go cold on him supported all those detractors who thought he should've stayed out on Staten Island. It didn't make him look good to the captain, who was obviously leery of him, either.

"The brass is pulling the phone bank, there's just not enough tips coming in any more to justify it. They're giving you another few days--" Ross pauses, eyes flicking to the television, before turning on the volume.

She never watches Faith Yancy, can't stand the way the woman sensationalizes -- _every -- single -- word_. How that woman managed to become a news presenter, never mind an ADA in this city, is beyond Alex's comprehension. It must have been her flair for grandstanding.

The Gorens though, they're interesting. Mrs. Goren is sitting forward, actively pleading with the viewers; Mr. Goren, however, is slouched back in his seat, head tilted to his right and gazing at the floor. It takes Yancy several tries, and ultimately a nudge from his wife, to get him to even respond.

Mrs. Goren talks as if Matilda is alive, Mr. Goren seems to be assuming she's dead.

"She's trying to personalize the girl to the kidnapper, Mr. Goren's been coaching her--" Ross sighs as the interview concludes, turning off the television.

"He talks about her like she's dead," Logan grumbles.

"He's a cop, he's got to know the chances of finding her alive at this point--" Well, Alex doesn't have to explain to these two how miniscule the chances of a child being abducted by a stranger in the first place, let alone finding her alive a week after the trail's gone cold.

"Speaking of, has Army CID finally sent over Mr. Goren's personnel file and case notes?"

"You know the government, Captain, all requests answered at a glacial pace. I called earlier today, and they swore they'd get to it as 'soon as possible'," Logan snarls, pounding the armrests of the chair.

"Which means we'll probably see that file when hell freezes over. You two go home for tonight, unless there's a miracle there's not going to be anything new tonight," Ross says, dismissal evident as he starts clearing his desk off.

As they head out of the office, Logan's expression is sullen as he walked towards his desk. He'd managed to escape the 'dog house' desk between the pillar and the captain's door, but he was seated behind her until Anderson got a new partner.

"You already got the job," she mutters, pitching her voice just loud enough for Logan to hear. "Dial it down a few."

He stiffens beside her, but doesn't respond, quickly setting to organizing his desk.

She starts putting away her own paperwork on the case, feeling her own frustrations about the case bubbling up. She may not have as much pride at stake as Logan does, but cold cases involving children were always difficult…

Her nephew was only a year younger than Matilda…

"Detective Eames," A nervous voice breaks her contemplation.

Glancing up from her desk she spotted one of the rookie cops from downstairs standing in the doorway, several large manila envelopes under his arm.

"Yes?"

"These came -- earlier, I just found them--" He drops them on the corner of her desk. "Sorry."

Raising an eyebrow she glances at the return label.

"Hey Logan, you got the forecast for tomorrow?"

"Do I look like the weatherman?"

"I think it's going to be a bit nippy in hell tomorrow--" she smirks, holding up one of the envelopes.

"I'll be sure to grab my fur hat."

* * *

"I thought I told you two to go home," Ross grumbles as he walks into the bullpen the next morning.

Alex suppresses the yawn that had been threatening to escape, and tries to look like she hasn't stayed up all night looking over files. Logan's gone off to power nap in the crib, but the remains of his dim sum are all over Anderson's desk.

"CID turned over Goren's files, and I think we have a suspect. Lizabetta Hauser, Goren busted her during his time in South Korea. She and a local female accomplice staged a break-in into her own house and killed her husband. Hauser was caught, but the female accomplice was never found. Goren's case notes insinuate that Lizabetta was having an affair with the woman and killed the husband because he found out."

"So you think her lover may have found a way to emigrate here, stalk the Goren family and kidnap his daughter in revenge?"

"Or Hauser. Her father is a four star general and pulled some strings to get her a great lawyer who argued that Mrs. Hauser was a battered spouse and got her a reduced sentence. She was released last year."

"Go get Logan out of the crib and see if you can't track down where Mrs. Hauser has relocated, and if her girlfriend's with her."


	10. This Tomb

Author's Note: Don't own Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Wish I did. The residuals alone would pay off all my college loans. They're property of Dick Wolf and NBC, all I'm doing is playing with their characters...

Warnings: AU, zomg AU. Adult subjects, child abuse, angst, and unpopular pairings ahoy.

* * *

Two days later they find Lizabetta Hauser living in a suburb outside of Buffalo. The house is a typical cookie cutter ranch home; looking at it you'd never guess that the woman living inside shot her husband pointblank in the head as he lay sleeping on the couch …

"Lizabetta Hauser!?" Logan knocks on the door. "NYPD."

The door jerks open swiftly and a woman with over-bleached hair glares out at them. Lizabetta probably was an attractive woman, before prison carved grim lines around her mouth and eyes.

"Come in. I don't want the neighbors to see," She snaps, walking back inside and not even bothering to check to see if they're following her. She looks at Logan, who shrugs, and they follow her into an outdated kitchen with matching harvest gold appliances.

"Now, what do you want?" She looks at them skeptically, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She looks disinclined to offer them any.

"Have you been in contact with Robert Goren?"

"Goren? Agent Goren that freak that put me away," She snorts sourly, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up, blowing the smoke in their faces. "No. Saw him on the news though… his kid's been stolen right? Which is why you're here."

"So it's safe to say you don't like Mr. Goren," Logan asks with a cheeky grin. A grin that Lizabetta looks eager to slap off his face.

"That bastard sent me to prison for fifteen years, told everyone that I was a faggot -- you'll excuse me if I'm not exactly his number one fan," She snarls, turning and storming off into a different room. She returns quickly with her purse, which she slams on the counter top before digging into it. She pulls out a receipt, a business card, and a debit card from her wallet. "Before you even ask, I wasn't in the city that day. Here's a receipt from the gas station in town that I was at the morning Goren's kid disappeared, here's the debit card I used, I'm the only who knows the pin. And here's the card for the place where I work, where I punched in and stayed all day and my boss will vouch for me." She shoves the evidence towards them.

It's pretty good, Alex admits, although someone else could've used the card and the pin number… Lizabetta, however, doesn't match the description of their kidnapper, too tall, wrong race…

"Agent Goren's notes -- there's something about an accomplice…," she asks delicately… knowing Logan he probably would've just asked 'Where's your girlfriend', which would've got their asses booted out the door.

"You mean my 'lover'," Lizabetta says with sour amusement. "Figures the perv would put that in his notes, you should really be looking at him -- he probably kidnapped his own kid…"

"So you've not be in contact with 'High-yoon'," She asks, deliberately mispronouncing the name.

"_Hee_-yoon," Lizabetta corrects angrily, before looking away sharply. Alex is beginning to think the lady doth protest too much. "We were friends. _Just_ friends, and I haven't seen or heard from her since Goren arrested me. I live alone, ask my neighbors. Now, if you're done, you can let yourselves out."

/

"Well," Ross asks as soon as they enter the squad room.

"Solid alibi," Logan grumbles. "And she says there wasn't any girlfriend, Goren got it wrong. Neighbor says she keeps to herself."

"So we're back to square one?"

"Yes, Captain," Alex sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

"I think it's time you two put this on the back burner; if a new lead pops up, then you can investigate it, but there are other-- cases," The unspoken _solvable _is understood by all of them, "That need your attention."

* * *

He keeps a copy of Matilda Goren's photo in his desk drawer as a reminder… His luck that he pulls a case his first day at Major Case that is pretty much unsolvable. Those cop shows always made it look so easy, everything tied up in a neat package at the end of the hour. Rarely, _rarely_, were actual cases solved in a day, let alone in an hour.

Not that he's forgotten about the victim in this case: a sweet, innocent little girl who just wanted to go feed the ducks in the park. What must she be thinking now, if she was even capable, which was doubtful. She had to wonder where her parents were, if they'd forgotten about her, if she was ever going to be found… or perhaps she'd adapted. Kids were resilient, doing what was necessary to ensure their survival… There were stories of kids found years later who'd completely blocked out their life pre-kidnapping…

And what of the person behind the abduction? His gut told him that this woman wasn't acting alone, but maybe it was because he couldn't seriously think of a woman doing something so cruel to another woman. Not that it didn't happen, he knew that all to well, but his gut hesitated all the same.

God knew what they were doing to her, what they had done to her… He shivered as he got a pretty good idea.

He hoped she was dead, if they were doing what he thought they were doing…

"Logan, meet your new partner," Ross barks, leading a young, boyish looking woman towards him. "Detective Logan, this is Megan Wheeler. Wheeler this is Mike Logan,"

"Nice to meet you," She smiles shaking his hand. "I heard you caught the Goren kidnapping." She looks at him with sympathy.

"Yeah…," Looking her over he thinks she's way too young to have made detective second grade.

Or maybe he's just too old. Too old for green detectives and missing kids who'll haunt his dreams at night until they're found.

* * *

Three weeks after his daughter's kidnapping he returns to work; the world hasn't stopped turning with Matilda's disappearance, there are bills that still need to be paid, a mortgage to pay down, food to be bought. Elizabeth is still too upset to return to work, so someone has to bring the money in-- and to be honest he's grateful for the excuse to the tomb their home has become.

His co-workers tip toe around him, looking at him sympathetically. His students are on their best behavior, looking at him like he's a bomb just waiting to go off. All of this just reinforces how much his life his changed, the gaping hole Matilda left growing wider every minute.

Elizabeth has begun to pull away from him too… wrapped in her own grief and a guilt that he understand but not soothe. For the child she carried for nine months to be stolen right before her eyes… unimaginable. She goes out for walks frequently now, roaming the neighborhood and Central Park, perhaps in the vain hope that Matilda will materialize just as she disappeared…

A lot of couples don't survive this sort of trauma, he knows. They don't have any other children to keep them together, it was just the three of them, and now one of them is gone and they can't even look at each other without remembering what they're missing.

Why are the women in his life always taken from him? His mother by disease, Elizabeth by this tragedy, and Matilda by an abductor for who knows what--

He forces himself not to think about what the monsters could be doing to his daughter now… his imagination alone has a knack for creating the most gruesome outcomes possible, and then there was _that_ case which had provided more than enough nightmare fodder…

_Those poor little girls… oh god, please, please, if she's dead please let her have gone quick…_

The police would be putting Matilda's case on the back burner soon, if they hadn't already… not that Bobby could blame them. Criminals didn't stop committing crimes just because a little girl went missing…

Cases that back burned eventually became cold cased, though… he didn't want to be still wondering where Matilda was, twenty years from now… he wouldn't be able to stand it…

Perhaps it was time he went back to his first profession… He knew some of his friends from CID had gone FBI, and Declan might help him create a profile--

First, he'd need information… the police won't just give it to him so he'll have to find his own; go through the sex offender registry in their neighborhood and around Central Park, look for any similar disappearances in the tri-state area, perhaps the kidnapper has a type or a pattern--

* * *

"Liz! Oh Liz, thank god you're here! She's been a complete nightmare--"

"Did you give her the medication like I told you, darling?"

"Of course. She been throwing tantrums and trying to escape all week--"

"She's a child and she misses her family, she'll get over it…"

"She better, she's bitten me twice today…"

"Oh, you poor thing… here, let Mommy kiss it better…"

"… I missed you so much, Liz…"

"I missed you too, darling…"

"Oh! Right there… are we finally free of _him_?"

"Free of whom?"

"Your _husband_, Liz -- you're not going back are you? He doesn't love you like I do --"

"_Bobby_ loves me very much, Ella."

"What! I can't believe you'd say that after what he's done -- Liz, Liz what are you doing?! _**LIZ!!**_"

* * *

She knows Bobby loves her. She knows he would love her less if she hadn't done what she's done. She also knows that he would stop loving her if he knew what she's done. It was an impossible situation, really. She thought, though, that she'd handled it the best way possible.

She's developed a habit of taking long walks to 'get out of the house', officially, but it also means he won't notice if she's gone for a few hours taking care of important business.

She can sense his fear that eventually she'll decide to not come back every time she walks out the door -- She's not going to bother correcting him, not when it's working in her favor currently.

Right now, he's hurting too much, but in a few months, as the grief passes, they'll be able to go back to the way things were _before_ everything got complicated. If he asks for more children, she can always say she could never think of the child as anything but a replacement for their lost little girl, and was that really _fair_ to the new child? It was pathetically easy to play upon Bobby's sense of guilt…

Funny, how squeamish she's gotten -- Theirry would be so disappointed -- but it comes back easily enough…


End file.
